


The Color of Love

by the_chaotic_lesbian



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Canon Compliant, Pining, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Unreliable Narrator, Unrequited Love, Will Byers Loves Mike Wheeler, Will Byers Needs a Hug, background jancy, background lumax, max and lucas tagged for role in second chapter, nancy and will bonding because there ain't enough of that, season 3? what season 3? I don't know her
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-02-13 00:30:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21485392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_chaotic_lesbian/pseuds/the_chaotic_lesbian
Summary: When Will was a kid, his mom says he was obsessed with the pretty colors on his wrist. He would sit for hours, book open to all the different colors, using his pencils and crayons to sketch out a random person, as bright and colorful as their emotions. He could watch the colors swirl for hours, ignoring the black crescent moon curved around the middle of the patch to instead focus on the different shades.His father would always scoff. Boys should not be so fond of their marks, he would say, shaking his head in disappointment. His mom always protected him from the worst of it, though, and when Will was eight, his father left and never came back and he wasn’t really that upset.~~~~~~~~~~On your wrist, you have a black mark and colors that represent your soulmate's emotions. Fitting for Will, being the artist that he is.
Relationships: Eleven | Jane Hopper/Mike Wheeler, Will Byers & Nancy Wheeler, Will Byers/Mike Wheeler
Comments: 20
Kudos: 246





	1. Green is for Envy

**Author's Note:**

> I've been writing at this for months and I'm still not finished BUT I decided to make it a two-parter so y'all can have a taste of what I've been working on. This is... officially the first fic in Will's POV that I've published, which is really ironic because he's my favorite character? Sorry for being so mean to him, I promise I'll be nicer... soon. 
> 
> Anyways, enjoy!

When Will was a kid, his mom says he was obsessed with the pretty colors on his wrist. He would sit for hours, book open to all the different colors, using his pencils and crayons to sketch out a random person, as bright and colorful as their emotions. He could watch the colors swirl for hours, ignoring the black crescent moon curved around the middle of the patch to instead focus on the different shades. 

His father would always scoff. Boys should not be so fond of their marks, he would say, shaking his head in disappointment. His mom always protected him from the worst of it, though, and when Will was eight, his father left and never came back and he wasn’t really that upset. 

As per regulation, Will wore a simple black cover over his left wrist at school - young kids don’t handle soulmates well, not really, studies say - but he was always peeking underneath it, entranced. 

His soulmate must be a happy person, he decides one day, watching the swirl of vibrant yellow take over the majority of his wrist. Sure, he can see the flecks of cobalt curiosity, small waves of violet pride, but they get lost in the overwhelming brightness of the yellow. He drowns in it. 

Sometimes, he wonders what his own mark must look like on his soulmate’s skin. If his soulmate is as obsessed with the colors as he is. He wonders and wonders and wonders. 

When Will is eleven, his previously shapeless figures start forming familiar features. Short, but wavy hair. Big brown eyes. A gentle smile. Will doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, doesn’t notice, lost in the colors he memorizes from his skin and transfers to the page. 

(His mom notices, but she doesn’t say anything, just smiles and shakes her head). 

And then Will’s twelve, and he gets taken. The Upside Down is cold, and dark, and lonely, and terrifying, and he only survives by hiding(it’s what he does best), and everytime he thinks he can’t handle the atmosphere of the place and that he should just give in, he glances down at the colors on his wrist and wonders. Gone is the yellow he’s so familiar with; instead it’s a dark prussian blue - grief - and a pale pink - wonder - and the muted greys of worry and concern, and Will can’t help but wonder if his soulmate is closer to him than he thinks. 

He wouldn’t know, not with the long-sleeved shirts he wears and the sleeve he has to wear at school anyways. 

He’s rescued from the Upside Down, but it stays with him for years. Will focuses on his colors even more on his bad days, because it grounds him, reminds him that somewhere out there, he has a purpose. It really helps him remember that he's not in that  _ cold dark lonely  _ place anymore. It helps him remember that he’s here, in the living world, not trapped. 

His drawings shift again, and Will realizes after nearly finishing off a sketchbook that the person he’s drawing is… Mike. 

That’s… okay, maybe a little weird. Will has just finished adding in little bits of dark grey worry to the drawing. There’s a lot less yellow than when he was a kid, but that’s okay. His soulmate seems upset about something, but not enough to where it really affects his daily life. Like longing, bittersweet and present but not overly so. 

(Still, Will  _ longs  _ to comfort them, to touch their hand or pull them into a hug and reassure them that everything is okay). 

Drawing Mike takes him completely by surprise, and yet, he wonders how he never noticed before. Mike is… Mike. He's always there, comforting and kind and casually affectionate, and… well, if Will is being honest with himself, he thinks he wouldn't mind if his soulmate is Mike. 

It isn't, though, it can't be. 

A year passes after his disappearance, and then the shadow monster gets him. Will hardly pays attention to the colors during this period of time - he's too focused on his own emotions to worry about someone else's. He almost loses himself that week, and that… more than anything, scares him. 

With his return to reality comes Eleven, the girl he's never officially met but has seen in visions. Will only vaguely remembers his last day in the Upside Down - only remembers collapsing from dehydration and starvation and giving up until the demogorgon found him - but he does remember the girl he assumes is Eleven, appearing out of nowhere to take his hand and reassure him that help is coming before disappearing again. 

Seeing her in person is… strange and awkward, but only because he doesn’t know what to say. What do you say to the person that saved your life not once but twice? He’s bad enough at talking with his friends, talking to Eleven… intimidates him. 

And Mike doesn’t help. His crush on Eleven - the way he spoke of her during the year, the way he longed for her the same way Will longs for him - only grows more intense with her return. Suddenly, Will is pushed to the sidelines, made even worse with Lucas and Max. He and Dustin spend more time together, and it’s nice, but it’s not… it’s not the same, not really. 

(he pities Eleven though, and he could never hate her for having Mike’s attention. On her wrist where her soulmark should be is nothing but pink scarred skin. The monsters at the lab wouldn’t let her have the hope of a soulmate so they tore it away from her. Will could never hate her for that.) 

Drawing feels… tainted after the stunt with the Mind Flayer. Will finds he sketches less and less, especially as he’s pushed more and more to the side. He finds that he can’t… he can’t muster up the energy to draw anymore, not when his own emotions are spiraling and he feels so  _ lost.  _ Even Dustin moves on eventually, talking and asking out girl after girl with mixed responses. 

Will hates it.

Schools stops, and summer starts, and finally Will thinks that he’ll be included in things. Summer was all about hanging out, spending time together, escaping the horrible reality of life through games and mindless chatter. He… he needs that, he thinks. 

It doesn’t happen. 

Mike spends every waking minute with Eleven. Gone are the days of chilling in his basement, playing DND and just generally spending time together. Dustin goes off to camp and comes home with a bigger radio and a long distance girlfriend. Lucas and Max don’t check each other’s soulmarks and just assume they’re meant to be, and they spend all their time together as well. Will feels like a weak link, a seventh wheel. 

He doesn’t know when it becomes obvious. He stops drawing. He stops looking at his soulmark because it just makes him hurt. He can’t stomach food half the time - unrelated to his romantic dilemma - and nightmares keep him awake for weeks at a time. He’s a shell of himself, he thinks. Jonathan notices, his mom notices, but neither of them pry too hard, scared of how he’ll react. 

(he hates being babied. He hates being looked at like he’s going to fade away, being handled like he’s made of glass. He hates it, but he also hates that they’re  _ right _ ).

(the Upside Down took his fragile soul and shattered it into pieces and try as anybody might, no matter how much glue they use, he can’t be put back together. He’ll just fall apart again). 

Because they don’t hang out anymore, it’s mid-July before anybody comments on his appearance. At this point, he’s spent his summer hiding away in his room, only leaving to go to the movies once or twice a week with Lucas and Max and Mike. In the dark of the theater, none of them can see how pale he is, how thin he’s gotten, how large the bags under his eyes have grown. 

In the end, it isn’t even one of his friends. It’s Nancy. 

Will vaguely remembers Nancy helping during his whole possession stunt. He remembers her standing off to the side, eyes wide and fearful but determined. She’s a good girlfriend to Jonathan, he thinks, even though they aren’t soulmates. Jonathan had shared that particular secret with him, confessing that they didn’t share the same mark but were willing to test waters until they found their match. 

She’s over one particular night, doing… whatever she does with Jonathan in their room. It must be two in the morning, and Will had assumed the entire house had been asleep when he darts up - shaky and panting from a nightmare - and forces himself into the kitchen. He’s not hungry, doesn’t think he could stomach food, but he pours himself a cup of milk, sipping at it. He’s so out of it from his nightmare, he doesn’t hear footsteps until Nancy is standing in front of him, wearing one of Jonathan’s t-shirts and a pair of fuzzy pants and looking exhausted. 

“Will?” She asks softly, rubbing at her eyes with a light frown. “Is everything alright?”

He blinks at her, and he must look as foggy as he feels because she moves so quickly. One minute, she's standing in front of him, the next there's an arm around him, rubbing into his shoulder. And… it feels so weird, but welcome, and Will leans into the touch, releasing a shuddery breath. 

"I'm not okay," he admits to her, after a couple minutes of silence. He doesn't know why he says it, but once the truth comes out, he can't stop it from bubbling out of his mouth. "Nancy… I just  _ want to be okay."  _

He tells her how he doesn't feel comfortable in his own skin anymore, how he can't shake off the feeling of something monstrous invading, claiming his mind, even though he knows it's gone. He tells her how his body is almost fighting him, rejecting food and plaguing his mind with nightmares. He tells her how everything is tainted, how nothing feels right anymore, how his friends are leaving him behind. 

He tells her about his soulmate. About his he's been ignoring the colors because of how upset he is, about how painful the reminder is. About how he wonders how someone could love him when he can't even love himself. And isn't that just… a wonderful realization? 

Nancy listens with all the patience of a saint, her hand rubbing his shoulder encouragingly. If she thought him spilling his guts was weird, she didn't comment on it, letting him talk without interruption. By the end of his spill, there's tears streaming down his face, and he has to bite his lip in an attempt to not sob.

"When I found out Steve wasn't my soulmate," Nancy starts once he finishes, her tone steady and even, "I was sad. Not heartbroken, by any means, just… sad that I had chosen wrong. And then, when I was  _ so sure  _ it would be Jonathan, I was wrong again." 

She tugs off her black sleeve, then, revealing a five-dot pattern with colors swirling around it. “I still don’t know who this belongs to,” she says, her fingers tracing over the colors with a delicate touch, “but knowing that someone, somewhere, is meant for me? It helps. Yes, it hurts that I’ve chosen wrong twice, but in the end, it’s all going to work out. I know it.” She pauses, looks at him, “do you mind if I look?” 

Perhaps, if he weren’t so tired and hadn’t already spilled all his secrets, he would’ve refused. As it is, though, Will feels like there’s nothing more he  _ could  _ hide from her, even if he wanted to. As such, he reluctantly pulls off the black band, revealing the crescent moon surrounded by the yellow-orange of peaceful content. Good dreams, then. 

“Wait,” Nancy says, and she’s grabbing at his wrist, holding it in front of her, “this is… this is familiar. I’ve seen this mark before.” 

Will tries to ignore the way his heart races, biting at his lip in anxious anticipation, “you… you have?” 

“Will-” and then Nancy’s looking at him with the most pity in her expression that she’s had this entire conversation, “-that’s  _ Mike’s  _ mark.” 

Oh. 

_ Oh.  _

He thinks he should be happy, ecstatic,  _ elated  _ at the news. Isn’t that what he had wanted? The ultimate knowledge that his crush… isn’t just a simple crush, but rather a longing for his soulmate? Shouldn’t he be  _ thrilled?  _

Instead, the tears that had paused during Nancy’s own story resume, spilling down his cheeks as he once again attempts to muffle them. He sniffs, rubs at his eyes, shoulders shaking again. 

“He’s gonna  _ hate  _ me,” he manages to say, something to tell Nancy that could reveal why he’s crying instead of rejoicing at the news, “he, he’s in love with  _ Eleven,  _ and she loves him, and I couldn’t ruin their relationship, I couldn’t do that to them, I love them-” 

“-shush,” Nancy presses her hand against his mouth lighty, removing it as soon as Will stops talking. “Listen, Mike does many things, but I don’t think he could ever hate you. Ever. You just have to tell him how you feel.”

Easier said than done. 

Eventually, they both go to bed, although Will never actually manages to go back to sleep. No, he lays awake, staring at his wrist, rubbing the skin where the colors meet his pale tone in wonder. 

Mike is his soulmate. 

_ Mike  _ is his  _ soulmate.  _

Mike, who is still dating Eleven. Who’s left him in the dust, whether it be on purpose or not. Mike, who’s convinced Eleven is his soulmate and he just doesn’t know it because her own mark is gone. Mike, who would want nothing to do with him if he knew. 

Will used to love his soulmark. 

He thinks he hates it now. 

  
  



	2. Everything is Blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me far too long, and I apologize. Luckily, quarantine's given me lots of time to write, even if it does feel rushed at the end. Enjoy!!!

It’s senior year, and Mike and Eleven have broken up. 

Will doesn’t hear about it right away. Ever since that fateful night, when Nancy had revealed a bitter truth, he had pulled away from his friends. More so than he already had, that is. His breaking away from the party had been something he’d foreseen ages ago, when they first started fracturing. 

It doesn’t help that his heart still flutters around Mike. Bitter, painful, absolutely heart wrenching. He can’t help the feelings, especially now that he  _ knows.  _ He  _ knows  _ he could have a chance. They’re soulmates, after all, how hard can it be? 

Hard. 

Will is selfless by nature. He’s known it for years, how he prefers for the people he cares about to be happy over himself. Their wellbeing always comes first. He thinks he’d actually hate himself -  _ more than he already does  _ \- if he allowed his friends to be unhappy for his own sake. And… maybe they are, but when he finally makes the official move - stops eating with them at lunch, stops trying to make plans, stops  _ caring  _ \- nobody says anything, and that’s how Will knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that this is what had been needed. He was a loose thread, and if they weren’t willing to trim it off, he’d cut it himself. 

And, yeah, it hurts. It hurts a lot. But Will knows better than to allow the hurt to control his actions. He prides himself on his filter, on his masks that he applies every morning, wishing he could go back to the simple little kid that innocently drew pictures of his soulmate. That kid is long gone, though, left behind in the Upside Down, torn apart by the Mind Flayer. 

In other words, he’s lost. Hopper and Eleven have moved in, and still he doesn’t talk to her. He should talk to her, she’s probably the only person in the world that would understand even a bit of what he’s going through, but how can he? Inevitably, if he attempts to talk about how he doesn’t feel like a real person anymore, he’ll spill the secret.  _ Oh yeah, by the way El, your boyfriend is my soulmate. Sorry!  _ No, he can’t do that. 

So, he doesn’t hear about the breakup until weeks later, when he overhears Eleven talking on the phone. He doesn’t know who she’s talking to - Mike, he naturally assumes at first, maybe Max? - and normally he tries not to eavesdrop but the walls are thin and her voice is raised. 

( _ “Yes, I do know what I’m doing. … is that what they were saying? It doesn’t matter! There’s no proof… yes, I know, and I still care for him, but I want to explore life not attached to his hip, and what if he has a soulmate that isn’t me? … the point is, a break will be good for us, I know it. _ ) 

It’s so obvious, and Will lays in bed that night, thinking. Eleven broke up with Mike? So he could search for a soulmate if it happened to not be her? Wow. 

(Unbeknownst to him, El is listening beyond the walls, a small smile on her lips. She waits until he’s not listening anymore, and then says a few more things to Max.) 

The next day, he thinks he’s still in shock. He doesn’t bother asking his stepsister what happened - there’s no point, and he doesn’t want to sound… needy, not now, not when he’s worked so hard to keep his image. Instead, he keeps his head low and sticks to his normal schedule - which means spending lunch in the art room instead of the cafeteria, because he can’t handle the idea of being around people. 

He’s hardly there for five minutes when the door opens to none other than Max, flying through the doorway to take a seat next to him. Will raises an eyebrow, eyes her suspiciously. 

“What are you doing here?” He asks, hand stilling on the sketch he had been working on. It isn’t as if he eats much anyways, he’d rather spend this time working on his portfolios for college. 

“Can’t I talk to a fellow friend?” Max says, making Will roll his eyes.

“Cut it out,” he replies, waving his hand almost dismissively as he turns his attention back to his sketch. Years of loneliness has added an extra bite to his tone, a cutting edge in his words that he never would’ve used beforehand. “Have you ever really considered me a friend?” 

“Well sure. I mean, you’re friends with the others, and I always thought you and I were alike.” 

“You couldn’t of said something sooner?” Will forces himself to look up as he says this, staring at her, “the timing is very late, and besides, are we really that similar?” He shakes his head, looking back down. “Why are you really here, Max? What do you want?” 

Max sighs. “Lucas and I finally checked our soulmarks,” she says, casually, like they really are the friends that she’s declared them to be, “and they don’t match, so we’ve broken up.” Like that’s something that can be so lightly. 

“Everybody is breaking up now,” Will mutters, somewhat sardonically. 

“Wow, the amount of sympathy you have is overwhelming,” Max notes dryly, and he just shrugs. He hasn’t spent so many years being miserable to be cheerful about it. Yes, he likes to think he’s kind still, but that kindness has to be earned now. He’s been handing out free samples for far too long, it’s time to start charging. 

“So you and Lucas have broken up, okay. Why was this so important that you had to seek me out during lunch? I’m kind of busy.” 

Max sighs, “El asked me to. Don’t ask me why, don’t shoot the messenger. Anyways, I’ll get out of your hair now, since you obviously have better things to do.” 

With that, she leaves, and Will is beyond confused. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Re-inserting himself into the party is a process, and it goes like this. 

First, Lucas seeks him out to give the same information Max had; they aren’t soulmates, but the relationship had been nice while it lasted, and yeah, he misses her, but he wants to find who he’s meant to be with. 

Then, he asks if Will wants to join them at the cinema this Friday. 

_ No thanks,  _ Will wants to say, but he ends up agreeing instead, and, well… he’s not the type to back out of plans. Not even when he’s hurting and unsure if this invitation is going to come back to bite him. And besides, he’s never been able to say no to Lucas. 

Friday comes without a hitch, and Will drives Jonathan’s old car to the theater, his hands shaking on the wheel the entire time. His soulmark is hidden with a band and he’s wearing long sleeves but still he rubs his wrist as he walks up to where he can spot Lucas, chewing on his bottom lip. 

Lucas hadn’t specified who “them” was, but Will can see them clearly now - Mike, looking uncomfortable, Lucas, looking smug, and Dustin, grinning. Seeing Mike shouldn’t make his heart clench painfully in his chest like it does, not when it’s been so long, but the selfish bitterness he feels is familiar and almost overwhelming. 

Mike is looking… fairly well for someone who just got broken up with a week ago. Will’s watched TV dramas, he remembers when Nancy finally cut things off with Jonathan before they went to college so that they’d both be free to find their soulmates. He had fully expected to see Mike slumped and defeated, moaning and complaining to Lucas the way he had all those summers ago when he and El took a minor break. 

Instead, he just looks  _ off.  _ Uncomfortable but relaxed, almost bored. Will doesn’t dwell on him for long, he can’t subject himself to that torture again, but the few seconds are enough to confirm that if Mike is heartbroken, he’s doing a very good job of hiding it. 

“Will!” Lucas exclaims when he’s close enough. He also doesn’t look heartbroken, but Will chalks that up to the fact that he knew he and Max weren’t soulmates. Mike’s different. “You came, I wasn’t sure you would.”

“I said I would, didn’t I?” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It starts with the movies, but slowly it migrates into other, once familiar activities. Will finds himself, on more than one occasion, over at Lucas’s house on the weekend, curled into the couch playing board games with Lucas and Dustin and Mike. No girls, it’s just the four of them, which is… oddly comforting, it’s easier to pretend that nothing has changed and everything is the same as it used to be, all those years ago. 

(things have changed, things have changed a lot, but in the comfort of nostalgic familiarity, he refuses to think about it.) 

Is it strange being around Mike? Yes, yes it is. It’s strange in a number of ways, not the least being that Mike… hasn’t changed. He’s not nearly as mopey as Will had expected him to be, and while it definitely adds to that old charm, it’s oddly disturbing as well. 

(not once does he look beneath the itchy black band to view the colors. He can’t. Not now.) 

Hangouts turn into sleepovers, which then turn into a routine of dragging himself to Lucas’s room every weekend with a sleeping bag in hand. Falling back into place with Lucas is so much easier than it is with everyone else, because Lucas is just so…  _ Lucas.  _ He’s always been the most rational of the group, no matter what anyone else said. 

Dustin, logically, should be next, and in a way he is, but also Will never felt like he had grown apart from Dustin at all. Maybe it’s Dustin’s more amicable nature, or the fact that although he had a girlfriend, she was never  _ present,  _ and although Dustin would gush about her all the time, it was… cute, almost. 

Mike is… Mike, if a bit more distant than before. Then again, does Will actually remember a time before they all fell apart? It all feels so long ago, his memory vague and with all the familiarity of a distant dream. 

If anything, though, at the very least, this Mike he’s interacting with doesn’t resemble the Mike he’s been dreaming about at all. In his dreams, Mike is cold and stoic and apathetic -  _ because who could love him  _ \- but this Mike still talks to him, is still here. 

(Will spies him staring, a couple times, at the black band on his wrist with hungry, curious eyes. He ignores it.) 

And, okay, things aren’t quite the same. There’s no more comforting arms around his shoulders, no more soft touches to his hand or arm. The physical intimacy Mike used to be so comfortable with giving(and Will so comfortable receiving) is gone. But that’s to be expected, honestly. They’re seniors. Adults, practically. Such signs of affection are unheard of between friends at this age. 

( _ friends, just friends, nothing more _ )

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everything changes on a sunny December afternoon. 

The sky is a pastel blue, bright and only slightly blemished by wispy white clouds, yet the air is cold and harsh, the wind nipping and biting like a frightened dog. It’s such an atmosphere that causes Max - still wholly unused to Indiana winters - to invite El over to her house for what she called “a snuggle party”, leaving the boys to hang out. Max and El had only just rejoined the party for hangouts, so to leave so quickly is weird at best and suspicious at worst. 

It’s not like any of them could convince her otherwise though. It’s  _ Max.  _ There is no stopping a stubborn Max. 

Except, except, Dustin comes down with something. Some illness. He’s coughing up a storm when he radios to cancel, and Will winces in sympathy. That’s understandable. 

Then, Lucas is dragged into family activities, only radioing in when Will is in the car, staring out the window at the pretty, pretty sky, contemplating the meaning of his existence. His mom gives him looks that he pretends he doesn’t notice, but he knows she’s worried. 

By the time he realizes that Lucas cancelled as well, it’s just him and Mike, alone, in his basement. 

Originally, they were going to just have a chill night - watch movies, play board games, pretend to be the kids they never go to be - but suddenly it’s just. Mike. and Will. Alone.  _ Alone. _

(Oh god, he can’t handle them being alone). 

Will’s contemplating all of this as he sits, alone, on the couch in a basement he used to be familiar with. Mike had run upstairs to grab something or another - he hadn’t specified - which probably meant nothing except god Will hates to be alone. How did he manage so many years by himself? 

_ If you can count those years as managing,  _ he thinks, releasing a deep sigh,  _ maybe I didn’t.  _

His fingers are twisting together, lacing and unlacing, when Mike comes back down, something black tucked under his elbow. 

“Okay, okay, I know it isn’t Christmas yet, but I have an early gift for you,” he says by way of explanation, sitting down with a soft plop next to Will on the cushions, “I have movies and stuff planned out, but… this first. Okay?” 

Will gives him a once-over, his hands still twisting in his lap, “okay?” 

“Okay.” Mike releases a shuddery breath, almost visibly vibrating - for what reason, Will doesn’t know - before allowing the black object to fall into his hands. His hands are shaking as he hands it over, even as the rest of him is confusingly still. 

It appears to be a black sketchbook, smooth and vaguely opaque on the surface. Will traces his fingers over the cover, entranced. “It’s nice,” he says, simply, awe coloring the tone of his voice more than his word choice ever could. 

“I… um… there’s more,” Mike fidgets in his seat, his face tilted so that he’s staring pointedly at the floor. “Open it.” He’s acting strange, off. 

Will flips open the sketchbook, skimming through the pages. They’re… drawings. Drawings already in the book. They’re not the best quality, being rather simplistic, but each one is streaked with colors. Blues and greys and magentas cover most of them, and he translates each color into emotions methodically. 

_ Depression _

_ Mourning _

_ Neglect _

_ Fear _

_ Self-Hatred _

“These are…” 

“Yours.” 

The statement shocks Will into silence, and his gaze snaps up to Mike, blinking rapidly. Mike’s still not looking at him, gaze trained on the floor, and they sit there for a bit in silence. It couldn’t have been for more than a few minutes, but the passing of time feels like hours, and Will sucks in a breath. 

“Mine?” He asks, softly, hesitantly. Blood pulses in his ears, so loud he can hardly hear his own voice, as his heart pounds.  _ Is this real?  _

Mike doesn’t answer. Instead, he gently tugs off the black band on his own wrist. Colors begin to peek out, bright as day in the dim light of the basement. Pale yellow surprise. Deep orange shock. And, of course, the black symbol, a perfect match to Will’s own. 

“They… are yours, right?” He asks, after another minute. Will has to pull his eyes away from the colors, blinking again. 

“I… uh…” 

Mike reaches over, takes his hand gently. “May I?” 

And even though Will’s entire life is shattering before his eyes - or maybe  _ because  _ he’s falling apart - he nods, otherwise frozen. 

Mike gently unfolds the black band from his wrist, fingers clumsily pulling the fabric off his hand to reveal the colors Will hasn’t seen in years, along with the matching, ever so familiar black symbol. As if to rub it in, Mike brings his wrist up, placing the marks side by side. 

“We’re soulmates,” he breathes, and Will’s heart sinks in his chest like a drowning stone. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, barely loud enough for Mike to hear, “I know I’m not the person you wanted, I’m sorry-” 

“Please stop apologizing,” Mike interrupts, covering Will’s hands with his own. “And stop saying that about yourself. Do you know how long I’ve dreamed about you being my soulmate?” He laughs bitterly, as Will gapes at him. “Too long. Even El knew that she was… just a cover. A way to hide. An easy escape.” 

“But then… you mean…” Will falters, and his eyes are misting up. “You want? To be my soulmate?” 

“ _ Yes, _ silly.” Mike squeezes his hands, giving a small smile, “and I’m sorry for how much my decision must’ve hurt you. Has been hurting you, all these years. I can’t make up for how much of an asshole I was, but can I try?” 

It’s not perfect, but it’s a start, and Will nods, smiling a little too. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As it turns out, while Dustin genuinely was sick, everybody else had pulled out on Mike’s request, which… makes sense, honestly. 

El apologizes to him as soon as he gets home, whispering that she stayed silent for his sake because she didn’t want to cause him pain. He accepts it, of course, since it hadn’t been her fault. Not in the slightest. 

Max winks at him next time he sees her, and Lucas looks far too smug, but Will forgets that, because now… he has a  _ boyfriend.  _ A soulmate. 

And, for the first time in years, he leaves his band at home, left carelessly on his desk. He doesn’t need it anymore. Not when his colors are the bright red of passion and yellow of happiness. Not when he knows that Mike’s wrist will be a reflection of his own. 

Will used to hate his soulmark. 

He loves it now. 


End file.
